The Third Moriarty
by Julia Turpin
Summary: Moriarty is dead, right, guys? Looks like we *and everyone else* thought wrong! (or maybe not...)
1. Chapter 1

" _Did you miss me?"_

Sherlock awoke in a cold sweat. No sunlight filtered through the closed curtains. It took him a full minute to realize he was no longer dreaming.

It had been nearly six months since his sister Eurus played a series of "games" with himself, Mycroft, and John. Apart from almost dying themselves, they had endangered countless lives by encouraging her. Sherlock still blamed Mycroft for the indirect corruption of his sister, caused by Moriarty.

 _Moriarty_. The consulting detective blanched at the mere thought of his name. _It's no wonder Eurus was so clever._ Sherlock pulled the blankets off of himself and went into the closet to get dressed. He headed down the hallway and sat on the couch, attempting to clear all memory of the dream.

He received the phone call only three minutes later.

"Hello, brother dear."

Sherlock angrily resisted the urge to hang up and spoke harshly, through clenched teeth. "What do you want, Mycroft? It must be terribly important, otherwise you wouldn't have called."

"It is. Turn on the television."

The detective complied and switched on his TV set. The newswoman behind the desk appeared stern. "Last night, an unprecedented breakout from a max-security facility known as Sherrinford commenced. Only one patient is missing, with no clues as to her whereabouts. Authorities still have no leads."

Sherlock froze. Surely he had misheard her?

The news anchor vanished and the familiar face of DI Lestrade filled the screen. "Yes, well, we're trying to get the camera feed, but it's as if they turned off during the breakout. Just—" here he made a noise like a buzzing insect "—gone."

"There was a small clue, though, right?" The reporter asked eagerly. "Something about a parking lot?"

"Ah, yes, that," Lestrade said, rubbing his hands together. "There was a message written in skid marks in the parking lot of New Scotland Yard. We found it by looking out one of the top floor windows this morning."

"And what did it say?" Pressed the reporter.

"It's a bit silly, really," Lestrade replied nervously. "It said 'I HATE MYCROFT.'"

"Did you find anything else, Inspector?"

"Yes." Lestrade swallowed, looking anxiously around him. "There was a note found in the missing patient's cell."

"And…?" The reporter prompted him.

"It was signed '-Jack Moriarty.'"

Sherlock sat in stunned silence. _A breakout from Sherrinford? A message insulting his brother? And worst of all… something to do with Moriarty._ Wordlessly, he held the phone up to his ear.

"Do you see what I mean?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm afraid I do," Sherlock responded automatically.

"Moriarty has returned. They didn't mention it on the telly, but Eurus is the one who escaped. I have no idea how it happened."

"There's really nothing?"

He heard Mycroft sigh on the other end. "If you'll allow it, I'd like to come there. It'll all be plainer when I arrive."

"Mycroft, Moriarty is dead!" Sherlock insisted.

"I'm afraid not, brother dear."

Sherlock heard a faint _click_ and the call disconnected.

John came into the sitting room, casually dressed. "Morning, Sherlo-"

He noticed the very odd expression on his flatmate's face. Sherlock was staring, petrified, at the receiver, which he held around a foot from his face.

"Everything okay, Sherlock?" John asked, concerned.

The detective shook his head numbly.

Whether Sherlock liked it or not, his worst nightmare was beginning to come true.

—


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know. We're supposed to start with Mycroft. Well, whatever. I figured you would like to know what Eurus and… *ahem*** _ **Jack**_ ***ahem-aHEM* are up to. Here we gosies.**

The jet-black Mercedes pulled into the gravel driveway slowly. A light flicked on over the front door of the only house for miles. Eurus excitedly glanced over at her best friend, who was taking the key out of the engine. The car settled to a stop with a rumbling purr.

An attractive male silhouette stuck his head out the door and then came storming down the small stone path. "Jack? _The hell were you doing?_ I told you to be back by-" His lilting Scottish accent paused momentarily when he saw Eurus. "Oh…"

"Hey, Jeremiah," her best friend said casually. "Allow me to introduce Eurus Holmes." Jack got out of the car and Jeremiah opened the passenger side to help Eurus out.

Eurus found her friend squatting by the rear of the Mercedes, thumb rubbing a small dent on the back bumper. "Aw… I scratched it. _BUT I LIKED THIS ONE!_ " Jack complained loudly.

With Jeremiah's assistance, the three of them tugged the black disguise entirely off of the car, revealing another coat of paint, this time in neon pink. Jack grabbed a different set of plates from the garage and swapped them out with the ones currently on the vehicle.

"So, what _were_ you doing?" Jeremiah asked as the trio headed up to the house.

"Oh, nothing much," Jack replied. "Just breaking Eurus out of Sherrinford, running lots of red lights, messing up the security cameras with our code, and writing "I hate Mycroft" in a parking lot."

Jeremiah paused at the door. "You were bloody _brilliant_ , Jack!" He closed the door, and there was a small moment before he opened it again. "Absolutely _brilliant_!"

—

Mycroft arrived at Baker Street expecting his paranoid brother to fling open the door at the second his finger touched the bell. On the contrary, he had to push it twice before John Watson curiously unlocked it and welcomed him inside.

The two went upstairs to the sitting room, where Sherlock was still sitting and staring at the black TV screen. "Been like that ever since I came in. Haven't gotten a word out of him," John explained as he gestured to his motionless flatmate.

The eldest Holmes bent over and waved his hand in front of his brother's face. Sherlock's head jerked in the direction of the movement. "Oh, thank _God_ , Mycroft, you're here!" He said exultantly. John groaned and sat down in his chair.

"So, what exactly did you tell him, Mycroft, that made him so…" John gestured, trying to find the right word.

"Emotionless?" Sherlock supplied, half-jokingly.

"That's it," John grinned and flopped back into the chair.

"Eurus- John, you remember Eurus-"

"All too well," the doctor muttered darkly. Mycroft continued, heedless of the interruption.

"-she escaped Sherrinford last night. We have no idea where she is or who took her. The only thing we were able to discover was this." Mycroft placed a printout of a traffic camera shot onto the floor. It depicted a black Mercedes-Benz speeding through an intersection. What really stood out, though, was the unmistakable figure of Eurus Holmes in the passenger seat.

She was leaning out the window, grinning, and held a large, neon green sign that had _"Love you big brothers!"_ written in black marker. 

Before he knew it, Sherlock found himself laughing. "Of all the things in the world she could have put on that, she chose those four words." John hid his face in his hands and shook with silent laughter. The two best friends met each others eyes and collapsed back into fits of giggles that lasted for nearly a minute.

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at both of them until, finally, Sherlock pulled himself together. "I presume you both are _quite done_?"

Still wiping away tears of silent laughter, John sat forward. Sherlock reluctantly gave his attention to Mycroft, praying the explanation would be brief.

"Sherlock. You have to help us out," Mycroft pressed.

"Myc- _roft_. Did you forget what she tried to do last time?" Sherlock replied heatedly. "I've only had six months away from her and already she's broken out. I believe an explanation is needed from _you_." The detective leaned back and crossed his arms, raising one eyebrow.

The eldest Holmes pulled uncomfortably at his suit jacket. "There isn't one. Other than that Moriarty-"

"So you're telling me that _Moriarty_ has somehow resurrected?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"No, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I'm telling you that Jim Moriarty had a sibling. Jim and Jeremiah are twins."

"Another Moriarty?" John said numbly.

"Not just _any_ Moriarty," Mycroft continued solemnly. "The twin brother of James Moriarty."

 **Author's Note *PART 2!*: Well! I hope you're enjoying the story. Please leave a review. It means a lot to me. Thanks all!**


End file.
